I'm sure Hynds House was
just as interesting to them as Mohammedan harems and Indian zenanas.
Miss Emmeline really spoke well, and her audience was interested in
her, in her theme, and in Hynds House. The Suffragist picked up the
thread where the less gifted woman dropped it, and in simple, living
phrases drove home the great truth of the sisterhood of all women.
Which, of course, called for tea, and some of Mary Magdalen's
cookies. It was the cookies that caught The Author. Coming in from a
long and hungry prowl, he spied Fernolia crossing the hall with a
huge platter, got one tantalizing, mouth-watering odor, and dashed
after her, bent upon robbery. A second later he found himself in a
room full of women. Hyndsville was meeting The Author!
Alicia introduced him, pleasantly. And, "Talk about angels--" said
she, gaily, "We have just this minute stopped talking about the
heathen! And may I give you a cup of tea?"
"And a dozen or so cookies, please. Thank heaven for the heathen!
What is home without the heathen?--Without sugar, Miss Gaines,
without sugar! And for charity's sake, no lemon!"
He sipped his tea and munched his cookies, with his head on one side
and the air of a thievish jackdaw; and proceeded, after his wont, to
extract such pith as the situation offered.
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